Ad Astra Per Aspera
by elziebean1000
Summary: She was sure that the pain that she had experienced would seem like nothing compared to what he was enduring right at that very moment.


_So I've had this idea for ages, and it's only recently that I've actually been able to write it without blocking. So here be fic._

_I don't own Sanctuary (there'd be a season 5 if I did) etc_

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She was sure that the pain that she had experienced would seem like nothing compared to what he was enduring right at that very moment. The memory of her blood boiling in her veins was long forgotten as she watched Nikola writhing and thrashing on the floor, his mouth gaping in a silent scream of pure agony as James and Nigel held him down, and there was nothing she could do but watch the horrific tableau that was playing out before her.

The moment his body had stiffened and the colour had leached from his already fair skin she had wanted to undo time, to take back what she had done to cause his suffering. After all, potentially putting oneself in harms way was one thing, but doing the same with the lives of ones friends was quite another. They had no idea what they had been getting themselves into.

She felt John's hand close loosely over her shoulder, offering silent support and comfort as they waited for the heaving convulsions that were running through Nikola's limbs in waves to cease. She took a deep shuddering breath and fiercely blinked back the tears that were threatening to escape from the barricades of her eyelashes; she would not be seen as weak.

She flinched at the strangled cry the escaped Nikola's lips as he arched against the firm grips of Nigel and James. She could see the strain of keeping him down in the tightly wound muscles of their arms even through the material of their clothing. She felt physically sick at the sight of her friend in so much pain; years ago they had made a mutual agreement to protect each other.

Nikola gave one last shuddering gasp and slumped forward in the chair, held upright only by the firm grips of Nigel and James. Helen rushed forward and helped them to gently settle him back into the chair so she could examine him. Though his skin was deathly white, when Helen rested the back of her hand against his forehead, she was shocked at the intense head that was radiating from him.

She glanced up at James who was standing close enough to be of assistance if she needed it, but not so much to be a hindrance. When she looked at him, her eyes pleading, he stepped forward and pressed two fingers firmly against Nikola's jugular.

"His pulse is positively racing." He said after a moment, shaking his head and gently prying Nikola's eyes open to see almost fully dilated pupils. "I believe this would be a wonderful time to inform your father of our little experiment."

Helen bit her lower lip at the thought of telling her father the specifics of the experiment they had been conducting in the basement of the Magnus household but nodded her head and gestured for Nigel and John to help James carry Nikola's unconscious body to the door.

Helen walked ahead of the small group, unlocking doors and leading the way through the darkened passages of the basement to the winding stone staircase. She made her way to the stop of the stairs and unlocked the door at the top while she waited for the others to catch up. Nigel had relinquished his hold on the young Serbian and moved to the back of the group to allow John and James to manoeuvre more easily up the staircase.

Helen pushed the heavy wooden door open and held it while Nigel ushered John and James over the threshold and into the main house.

"What in Heaven's name is going on here?" the booming voice made Helen jump and release her on the door, allowing it to slam into Nigel's shoulder.

"Father!" her eyes widened with surprise as Gregory Magnus strode purposefully across the foyer towards his daughter and her colleagues. She lowered her eyes when he fixed her with a hard gaze.

"Helen, gentlemen," he flicked his eyes over to the unconscious Serbian, assessing him in one coolly executed sweep, "Is there anything you wish to tell me?"

Helen winced, "There's been a complication."

Gregory arched an eyebrow and cast another quick look at Nikola, "That much seems apparent." He commented dryly. He sighed at Helen's guilty expression and turned to the two men who were finding it increasingly difficult to keep Nikola in their grasps, "Lets get him settled in one of the guest rooms then, shall we?"

John suppressed the urge to roll his eyes and shifted his grasp on Nikola's ankles, "Yes, lets." James smirked at the ever-present condescending tone to John's voice and started walking towards the stairs, forcing John to walk backwards.

Helen gave James a small thankful smile as he passed her and her father. Gregory wrapped his arm around her shoulders and squeezed them lightly, "Why don't you tell me what's really going on, hm?"

Helen took at deep, calming breath as her father gently steered her in the direction of the guest bedrooms, "We have been experimenting with the Source Blood," she began cautiously, noting the way her father's hand tightened almost imperceptibly on her shoulder. She hurried on, "Investigating its properties, developing hypotheses; you have to understand, Father, this could very well lead us to truly understanding one of the greatest races of Abnormals ever to walk the Earth." She finished emphatically.

Gregory narrowed his eyes and stared suspiciously at his daughter, "Helen, what did you do?" They paused outside the guest room and watched as John and James settled Nikola onto the bed. Nigel squeezed past Helen with an apologetic smile and went down the hall to the bathroom.

Helen waited until Nigel was out of sight and then reached around her father to pull the bedroom door closed, "We developed a serum," she shuffled uncomfortably under Gregory's intense gaze. "And injected it." She stated quietly, avoiding looking directly at her father as she did.

She kept her eyes fixed firmly on the floor as she waited for her father to begin an angry tirade, she could almost imagine what he would say to her. When they had acquired the Source Blood during an expedition to the Indies, one of Helen's firsts, her father had entrusted it to her to study as a way to initiate her to the world of researching Abnormals, of course Helen was fairly certain he had not expected this as the outcome of his daughter's experimentations.

When an angry tirade didn't come, Helen risked a glance at her father and saw something in his eyes that made her heart clench and tears rise to her sea-blue eyes.

Disappointment.

Her lower lip started to tremble at the realisation that her father had never been disappointed with her before, frustrated, angry yes, but far from disappointed of his strong-willed offspring.

He caught her chin with the tips of his fingers when she went to turn away from him and gently made her look him in the eye. "Did you take the serum, Helen?" he asked softly.

Helen blinked hard, trying to force back the tears and nodded shakily, "We all did." Gregory sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Are you alright?" he asked, tilting her head to inspect her face from different angles.

"I'm fine, Father, we all are, there was some pain to begin with but when nothing else happened we felt it safe to continue," she paused and looked at the closed door, behind which she knew Nikola was unconscious, "Nikola had a much more severe reaction than any of us anticipated." She finished quietly.

She was startled to feel Gregory gently brush away a tear that had fallen to her cheek, she had realised she was crying. "We'll make this right." Gregory assured her. Helen nodded and wiped away the rest of her tears with quick swipes. Gregory smiled at her sadly and opened the bedroom door, holding it open for this daughter.

A quick glance around the room showed Nikola propped up against a mountain of pillows on the bed that dominated the room. John was leaning casually against the far wall staring out of the large window. James had his fingers pressed against Nikola's pulse point, his face the picture of concentration; he barely glanced up when Helen and Gregory entered the room.

"Excellent timing, it seems our friend has taken another turn." He commented gravely. Helen rushed to his side, only noticing as she neared that Nikola was shaking violently again and sweat beaded his forehead. "Where on Earth is Nigel with that cloth?"

"Here!" Nigel appeared in the doorway quickly made his way to James, handing him a damp cloth when he reached him. James took it from him and laid it across Nikola's forehead.

"He's feverish." Helen muttered. James hummed in agreement and pulled the heavy duvet that was covering Nikola away from him. Helen frowned when he moved to start undoing the buttons of Nikola's shirt, "James?"

James glanced at her, "We need to get the poor chap cool and I hardly think leaving him in damp clothing is wise."

"You're right of course." Helen replied absently, brushing her fingers lightly through Nikola's dark hair. At the sound of her father clearing his throat less than subtly, Helen blushed and backed away from Nikola's side, "I'll fetch another cool cloth." She gestured vaguely in the direction of the door before scurrying out of it, leaving her father and James to efficiently strip Nikola of his sweat dampened clothing.

She didn't realise Nigel had followed her out into the hall until she felt his hand on her arm. She looked at her friend and smiled weakly at the soft, understanding expression on his face; he always seemed to understand what she was thinking and feeling.

"It's not your fault y'know, we knew the risks." He said kindly.

Helen bit back a sarcastic laugh and shook her head, "We had no clue what would happen, Nigel. If I hadn't allowed my insatiable curiosity to get the better of me, none of this would be happening." She heard the frustration in her voice and took a deep, calming breath.

"Without your 'insatiable curiosity', you wouldn't be the Helen Magnus we all know and love." Nigel gave her a quick boyish grin, "Nikola will be fine, he's hardly just going to lay down and leave John without someone to bicker with."

Despite herself, Helen felt her lips turn upwards in a smile; it wasn't often that Nigel failed to make her smile, even in moments such as those, when all she wanted was for time to move in reverse to allow her to do things differently. She reached forward and squeezed his shoulder, attempting to convey her gratitude to him with the simple gesture.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door creaking open down the hall. John poked his head around the corner and frowned at the pair, "Your father needs those cloths, Helen." Helen blinked at the brusque tone of his voice but nodded, "And a bucket if you could."

"Of cour-" the slamming of the bedroom door cut off Helen's reply. She looked questioningly at Nigel who shrugged and placed his hand just above the small of her back, allowing her to lead the way to the large bathroom around the corner.

Helen found more cloths and some towels while Nigel filled a basin with tepid water. "Do you think this will be alright?" he asked her hesitantly. Helen dipped a finger into the cool water and nodded.

"I'm sure that will be just fine, Nigel. Would you mind terribly taking these to my father?" she smiled thankfully when he held out his arm for her to drape the towels and cloths over. "I'll be along shortly." Nigel bowed his head theatrically, eliciting another small smile from Helen. While Nigel didn't like to see his friends hurting, and would try to cheer them up in any way possible (more often than not with his quick wit and wry sense of humour), he also instinctively knew when they needed to left to themselves, if only for a few moments; something that Helen was eternally grateful for.

She waited until the sound of his footsteps faded to nothing before she emerged from the bathroom. She went over to the heavy wooden door opposite the bathroom and opened it. The servant's corridors were rarely used; both she and her father insisted that the housekeeper Mrs. Cartwright and her assistant Esther move freely about the house and to treat it as their own. Her footsteps echoed loudly as she walked down the stone steps that led to the servant's hall on the ground floor. She knew it would be empty at this time of day; the house cook, Mrs. Williams, would be busy in the kitchen preparing a light lunch for the house and as far as she could remember it was Mrs. Cartwright's day off. Esther, Helen had found, tended to take this time to visit her father's library browse the large leather-bound tomes, an activity Helen was more than happy to encourage in the young girl. It didn't take her long to find the pail that Esther used to hold the ashes when she cleared out the fireplaces; Helen had helped the girl with her duties on more than one occasion.

She half-ran back up the servant's stairway and down the hall. When she reached the bedroom door she paused to catch her breath, tucking an errant curl of blonde hair behind her ear. Once she was fairly certain she had regained her outwardly calm composure, she knocked on the door and waited until she heard her father's voice summoning her.

When Helen stepped in the room, the unmistakable odour of vomit greeted her; despite her normally strong stomach, she covered her mouth with the back of her hand and willed herself not to gag. Nigel met her just inside the doorway and relieved her of the pail, a look of concern crossing his face at the sight of her pale features.

"Is he alright?" she asked him quietly, peering over his shoulder and watching as James and her father flitted around the bed, applying cool cloths to Nikola's forehead, neck and chest.

Nigel shrugged lightly, "He's been better," Helen hummed in agreement, "the poor bloke felt it was necessary to empty his stomach contents on John's shoes a few moments ago." Nigel said, a hint of a mischievous smirk playing on the corner of his lips. Helen directed her gaze to John, who was standing as far away from the bed as possible, a murderous glare directed at the young Serbian.

She went to stand at the foot of the bed held on tightly to one of the carved wooden posts that held up the canopy. One look at Nikola told her that he was still far from well; his skin was ashen, his eyes fluttering erratically beneath the closed lids, his breathing shallow and quick. She caught her father's eyes and looked at him imploringly, her heart dropping when he shook his head and looked away, unable to hold her gaze.


End file.
